


When a Plan Comes Together

by Shadaras



Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thrawn Defects to the Rebels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26350726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: Plans moved slowly, except when they moved all at once. Maneuvering so that he was close enough to the Rebels to make it plausible was a matter of months, but easily accomplished; all he had to do waas mention off-hand that he was interested in putting down those frustrating Rebel incursions and his flagship was sent to Lothal. Not the grandest place, to be sure, butgrandwasn’t his goal:Dangerouswas.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: We Die Like Fen 4: We Lived to Die Afen, We die afen and afen





	When a Plan Comes Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExtraPenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExtraPenguin/gifts).



> I've seen some of Rebels, but not the part with Thrawn in it, so... AU from all that after like s1 probably?

Grand Admiral Thrawn calmly folded the slip of flimsi the For Your Eyes Only message had come on. A shame, he thought, that it had not been written by hand; he could have gleaned so much more information about the special mission he was supposed to be sent upon that way. With mere typed words, copied by digital hands, all that remained were the words, an order full of plausible deniability.

 _Destabilise them_.

The trick, Thrawn mused as he lit a candle—one of the many affectations he was now allowed—was in finding a way to send such a missive without alerting any authorities who might make things… difficult. The subtle dots surrounding the letters, faint and irregular enough to seem like simple machine error, were the code that allowed him to name both the sender and the specific target.

If the Chiss Ascendancy had finally decided it was time for the Emperor to fall—

Thrawn allowed himself a smile as he burnt the flimsi into a satisfying pile of ash. Impermanence was one of the most beautiful aspects of art, after all, and being asked to conduct such a fall left him so _many_ possibilities. He looked at the candle’s flickering light, and wondered: Would anyone notice his shifted attitude? Would anyone think to look for a change in his stride?

Eli would, but— Thrawn shook his head and calmed himself. He had sent his protege off to swim in deeper oceans. There would come a time to call in the reckoning, but he did not think that time had yet come to pass. He could not send a message, not yet; he did not want Eli to be caught in the decompression of his plan.

Thrawn sighed, and blew out the candle. It was time to set long-buried plans in motion.

* * *

Plans moved slowly, except when they moved all at once. Maneuvering so that he was close enough to the Rebels to make it plausible was a matter of months, but easily accomplished; all he had to do waas mention off-hand that he was interested in putting down those frustrating Rebel incursions and his flagship was sent to Lothal. Not the grandest place, to be sure, but _grand_ wasn’t his goal: _Dangerous_ was.

For his plan to work, there had to be minimally plausible deniability that he survived. This Rebel cell, with a rumored Jedi amongst them, was perfect. Thrawn found Jedi to be… stilted at best; they rarely made art, and what art they did make had primarily been destroyed. But in his studies of the artefacts left behind, Thrawn thought their philosophy had been too strict, and had led to their downfall.

Still, the Emperor feared them, and every member of the Imperial Fleet understood what damage they could do. All Thrawn had to do was maneuver into the correct position: Powerful enough to be a threat, and for the Empire to believe he was taking his job seriously; weak enough for the Rebels to believe they stood a chance, and for the Empire to believe that he had truly lost when the time came.

Saying that was _all_ he had to do was putting it lightly, of course; there were hundreds of orders, many of them tiny little things which Thrawn had concocted to slip under the radar. He was known for efficiency, for making his fleet shine with his unusual orders. Adding a few strange choices was not difficult at all; making the losses seem to be from the Rebels' actions and not his own was the challenge.

Thrawn thrilled to it, especially as he studied the patterns these Rebels made. Sabine, especially, threw her heart onto any wall she could find, and from that Thrawn deduced the Rebels’ weak point.

Now he simply had to find the right time to strike.

* * *

He lost _Chimaera_ in the battle, and it was the only thing Thrawn truly regretted. He had put so much time into his flagship, and it was a shame to lose it. But if he hadn’t lost it, then his defeat would not truly be believed. And, thankfully, the creatures the Rebels had somehow brought along to the battle had changed the balance in ways even he had not been able to predict.

It was a delight, a marvel, and Thrawn was very glad that any true survivors would be able to attest to the times he had paused, considering his actions because he had _needed_ to reconsider what moves to make upon the battlefield. The seed of truth was more powerful than doubt, and would anchor the rest of the story.

He had made sure to be broadcasting a final order when _Chimaera_ broke, too, so that all survivors would hear his voice dissolve into the roar of burst engines.

The Chiss Ascendancy was very good at engineering evac suits, and Thrawn had long since been glad for that. With fire and plasma washing over the escape pod he’d hidden away for himself, melting it into slag, he was yet more grateful that he would not need to rely upon its twisted and halting systems to survive.

One thing the Rebels always did, if they had the chance, was look through battlefields for survivors. With a Jedi among them, Thrawn knew, they would find every single one.

He planned to be among them.

* * *

Mitth'raw'nuruodo, no longer Grand Admiral, stood tall in front of the assembled holos of the Rebel Alliance’s high council. He did not let his back bend, nor did he act like the binders on his wrists were anything more than mildly inconvenient decorations.

He had been authorized to make contact with the Rebel Alliance, and so—ignoring the hostile gazes resting upon him, the way in which they wished to see him as nothing more than another high-ranked prisoner of war—he said, “My name is Mitth'raw'nuruodo of the Chiss Ascendancy, known to you as Grand Admiral Thrawn. I am here to offer you alliance with my people, with the goal of destabilising and breaking the power of the Galactic Empire.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then the whole room burst into cacophonous clamour, dozens of comms competing for control. Mitth’raw’nuruodo smiled. They would come around, given a bit of time.


End file.
